


Seventy-two to nil

by calcliffbas



Series: White Lotus Zuko [1]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Pre-Canon, Gen, Iroh (Avatar) is a Good Uncle, Order of the White Lotus, Pai Sho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:27:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27082654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calcliffbas/pseuds/calcliffbas
Summary: When Zuko is banished, Iroh decides to teach him Pai Sho. Zuko learns a few other things along the way, too.
Relationships: Iroh & Zuko (Avatar)
Series: White Lotus Zuko [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1983037
Comments: 29
Kudos: 656





	Seventy-two to nil

_Nil all._

General Iroh, the Dragon of the West, has served his nation proudly for many years. He served in the First Fan Hong Campaign, and in the Third Wei Xinhai Campaign, and was hailed for his leadership at the Battle of Tanggu in 76 ASC.

Many had thought that the earthbenders possessed the tactical advantage, set as they were on the higher ground. They had thought it impossible to take Tanggu. But Iroh had been sly and cunning in the use of his resources – he had based his warfare on deception. It had amused the Fire Lord to hear that the Earth Kingdom’s own philosophy had been used against them, but he had cautioned Iroh to know that to make use of another element’s inferior ways was below Fire.

So Iroh knows what it is to wish to bring honor to the Nation. He knows what it is to be faced with a task many consider impossible. And he knows that it is a hard, hard task to please the Fire Lord.

And that is why Iroh now looks at the small boy he is accompanying to sea, and feels his heart break.

“Will you join me for a cup of tea, Nephew?” He asks gently. He wonders – if he raised his voice to be heard over the waves, whether the fire in his breath would warm the boy?

Or would it burn him?

Iroh keeps his voice even and calm. Zuko will not come to harm under his care.

“Later, Uncle,” comes the whispered reply. “I – I’m not thirsty right now.”

“Are you cold, Nephew?”

“I’m _fine_ , Uncle.”

“You should take care not to catch a cold, Prince Zuko,” Iroh cautions the boy. “You are a growing boy – you need your strength.”

If the air is unseasonably cool, Zuko’s words are ice and snow. “I need my strength because I need to capture the _Avatar_ , Uncle. Your jasmine tea isn’t going to help me restore my honor.”

Iroh sympathizes – he knows what it is to feel that his Nation will see him and sneer at him brought low. He too has lost something precious to him. But what he has lost can never be restored.

“The Fire Lord has set you a difficult task to complete before he will consider restoring your honor, Prince Zuko.”

“I’m not going to give up, Uncle. You taught me that.”

The sheathed dagger is still strapped to Zuko’s hip. Iroh had given it him – four years ago? Maybe five?

His son had died three years ago, and that is still the way Iroh remembers his Before and After. It grieves him that Zuko will have a similar mind, now.

“I have taught you many things, Prince Zuko,” he says instead, because he will not weep in front of his nephew. In the privacy of his cabin, tonight, he will soak his pillow in saltwater, but for this boy, his son’s cousin, his brother’s blood – but he is not _Ozai’s_ son, he cannot be, no father would do such a thing – for Zuko, he _will_ stand firm.

“I’m – grateful for your presence here, Uncle. I know I’ll need your counsel if I’m to regain my honor.”

“Does not Fire Sage Yoritomo state that ‘A man is honorable in proportion to the personal risks he takes for his opinion’?” Iroh asks mildly.

“That’s what I mean, Uncle,” Zuko nods, though he is still looking out at the horizon. The sea stretches on endlessly. “I know fighting a master of all four elements will be risky, and dangerous. That’s why Father will have to restore my honor – the risks I will have overcome will have proven that I’m worthy to have it returned to me.”

“I was, in fact, speaking of the risk you took in speaking out, Nephew.”

Iroh knows that this is a dangerous thing to say. He does not wish to poke an angry tigerdillo, nor does he want to raise the saber-tooth moose lion to violence by wounding its pride. But he hears a short, sharp intake of breath, and he sees Zuko’s shoulders shake as he breathes out.

“I understood the personal risk I was taking, Uncle,” Zuko says bitterly. “Believe me, I _know_.”

“You believed you were to risk yourself against General Bujing, Nephew.”

“Just because I didn’t know I’d be – that I had miscalculated the situation,” Zuko stumbles over his words. Iroh does not blame him. “That doesn’t mean I didn’t know what was going to happen. It’s Agni Kai. It happens that way.”

“Some would say it was dishonorable of Fire Lord Ozai to deceive you to his intentions.”

“The Fire Lord acts with honor,” Zuko says automatically.

“So you were aware of the risk you were taking in accepting Agni Kai?”

Zuko hesitates. Good. Iroh will make him see the truth of this, at least. “Yes.”

“You understood that you risked your honor, your place in line to the throne, your birthright?”

Zuko slams his open palm against the railing with a dull _thud_.

“I know what I’ve lost, Uncle! I’ve lost _everything!_ You don’t have to remind me!”

“And yet, Prince Zuko,” Iroh continues, allowing a little steel to creep into his voice. “In choosing to risk your own honor – in choosing to risk _everything_ to speak out, as you say – do you not show that you have demonstrated your honor?”

A single tear slips from Zuko’s right eye. Iroh does not know whether he hopes the action is mirrored on his nephew’s left side. For such functionality to remain would be a hopeful sign, but…

Iroh has seen the bandages being changed. The saltwater would be agony on the flesh.

“I have no honor, Uncle,” the boy’s voice is a lament and a sob and a whisper. “The Fire Lord has stripped me of my honor. I cannot demonstrate what I do not possess.”

“The Fire Lord rules by the mandate of Agni,” Iroh states. It is something Zuko learnt from his theology tutor, Master Ryōma.

“May his reign last ten thousand years,” Zuko mumbles.

“And the Fire Sages are Agni’s representatives upon the earth,” Iroh adds. This, too, Zuko knows.

Iroh remembers reading over a scroll in which Crown Prince Zuko had argued that the authority of the Fire Sages be limited to ecclesial matters and their influence over matters of foreign policy curbed, as the monotheism of the Fire Nation could not be brought to bear in diplomacy and negotiations with, for instance, the Water Tribes, which were polytheistic.

Zuko had argued that diplomacy, negotiations and communication with the Tribes might instead emphasize their shared values, such as familial loyalty and responsibility to the collective. Iroh had felt that this was a mature and reasoned attitude for an eleven-year-old to take. He had, however, gently dissuaded his nephew from presenting his scroll to Mistress Sakamoto, whom Iroh knew to be a political tutor much of a mind with his brother when it came to the other nations.

“Prince Zuko,” he continues. “If what the Fire Sages have written proves your honor, and my brother denies you honor, then how can both be true?”

“I don’t need your _philosophy_ lectures right now, Uncle,” Zuko spits. “I don’t need a tutor talking at me about Shimizu’s Crococat! I need to capture the Avatar, and talking about Fire Sage Yoritomo, or – or Fire Sage Fukuyama, or Fire Sage Nakamura – none of those are going to _help_ me right now!”

Iroh knows he has pushed too far. He understands that now is the time to withdraw. He did not rise to General by fighting battles he could not win.

“I understand, Prince Zuko,” he gives the captain of his ship a short bow. “I will leave you to yourself, then. If you do have reason or wish to seek me out, then I shall be in my cabin for this evening.”

Zuko doesn’t give any indication he’s heard him, but instead stares out at the sea like it contains the answers he seeks.

Iroh is an old man, and he hopes that it will not take Zuko as long as it took him to realize that there are no answers that will satisfy whilst you ask only the wrong questions.

He takes his leave and makes a stop off in the galley on his way to his rooms, where he makes himself a cup of ginseng and speaks with the cook about whether assam is better served with ground lychee nuts or a strained dash of moon peaches.

_One to nil._

Iroh is lying on his bed, idly humming along to the song ‘Don’t Fall in Love with the Travelling Girl’, which he had heard from a very friendly gentleman in the Earth Kingdom. He is wondering whether he might be able to sneak a sticky bun from the galley when he hears a knock at his door.

He sits up and folds his hands over his stomach. He doesn’t care much for decorum anymore, but he should honor his nephew, under whom he sails. If he is seen to be slacking off, it sets a poor example for the crew. “Enter.”

It is his nephew who steps into his quarters and shuts the door behind him. He bows low to his elder, and Iroh wishes to tell him firmly to _rise_ , but such a word from an authority figure is not what Zuko needs to hear right now.

“I am afraid I cannot offer you any jasmine tea, Nephew,” Iroh tells him. He knows Zuko dislikes jasmine, and though he sees it as a serious fault, he cannot bring himself to tease. Zuko looks like he is a moment away from bolting, and a scared turtleduck must be brought in gently, with kindness and care.

Zuko has not experienced kindness or care in a long time, Iroh reflects sadly.

“But perhaps you would care to play another game of Pai Sho?”

“I, um,” Zuko fiddles with his hands for a moment before standing a little taller. “That’s okay, Uncle. You beat me at Pai Sho earlier. And, uh. I’m not here for tea.”

Lu Ten had often straightened up and squared his shoulders. He had told his father it looked impressive when the Dragon of the West did it. “Then if you are here for something I may offer, Nephew, I shall give you it freely.”

Iroh will give this boy anything he can, if only Zuko will ask. Care, kindness, love, honor, he will gladly grant them all. But he knows that Zuko will not ask for these things. He is a stubborn boy, and Iroh is so proud of him for it.

It is why they are here at sea, after all.

Zuko swallows and shifts on his feet. “We were talking about the Fire Sages yesterday, before – before I yelled at you, Uncle.”

“I was impressed that you remembered Fire Sage Nakamura, Nephew,” Iroh says. “I have often found his writings to be rather impenetrable.”

“I’m sorry I spoke out of turn,” Zuko blurts out, and looks hard at the floor, shoulders hunched.

Iroh would rather face ten thousand earthbenders alone in Tanggu than see his nephew fear him so.

“Prince Zuko,” he tells him gently. “When Lu Ten of blessed memory was your age, he had such a temper as I have never seen.”

That surprises his nephew. “But I _never_ saw Lu Ten get angry, Uncle.”

“Well, that was because he was very fond of you, Nephew.” Iroh smiles at the memory. The ache is lessened somewhat when he can picture his son’s smile. “He found it very easy to manage his temper when he was with you – but, of course, he found it somewhat more difficult to manage a mischievous six-year-old.”

He can almost hear his boy’s laughter as he chased Zuko through the hallways.

“I,” Zuko begins, before he ducks his head. “Lu Ten gave me a set of Fire Sage Nakamura’s writings when I was eight. He said he really enjoyed them.”

Iroh knows for a fact his son had never gotten past his basic introduction to Nakamura’s writings before giving up and going off to do something more interesting. “My son must have been confident in your dedication to your studies, Prince Zuko.”

Zuko seems to flush in the candlelight. “Um. I didn’t really like it. I thought he was kind of boring.”

“You would not be the first one,” Iroh acknowledges cheerfully.

“But – I remember reading something he said. And it kind of stuck with me then. And I remembered it now.”

Zuko coughs and stands a little taller, like he is about to perform a recital. Ursa’s son has always given his all. “Duty, and honor, and the Nation. Let these be your inspirations. Courage, and faith, and hope. Let these be your aspirations.” He finishes and looks a little embarrassed. “I, uh, forget the rest. I think Nakamura talks about them for a few chapters.”

“It is a noble sentiment,” Iroh offers. “To be willing to do what must be done, for it depends upon you to do it, for the good of the Fire Nation – it shall require courage, and faith, and hope.”

“Right,” Zuko agrees. He looks a little relieved that Iroh seems to be pleased with what he has said. “But, I, uh.”

Iroh waits patiently as Zuko collects his thoughts. He is an old man, but fire is life. He still burns.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said, Uncle,” Zuko says suddenly, looking up and fixing Iroh with his right eye. Zuko’s eyes are bright, shining gold. “About what I risked. And I’ve been thinking about why I did it. And I did what had to be done, because no one else would do it. And I did it for the good of the Fire Nation.”

“You did, Prince Zuko,” Iroh says quietly. “When nobody else would, you did.”

“Then why –” Zuko hesitates, but presses on. Iroh’s nephew does not give up. “Fire Sage Nakamura would say that I acted with honor.”

“I believe so,” Iroh agrees. He agrees with Zuko, and he agrees with Nakamura.

“But Fath – but the Fire Lord said that I had lost my honor when I refused to fight.”

“He did.” Iroh agrees with Zuko. He cannot agree with Ozai.

“But I refused to fight because I was – I wanted him to know that I only had the Fire Nation’s best interests at heart.”

Zuko had looked at a room of generals who had fought in more battles then he had faced winters, and he had not backed down. But Iroh had looked away. He will bear that shame for as long as Zuko bears his scar.

And his wound _will_ scar, he thinks bitterly. His brother is a very good firebender.

“So –” Zuko continues haltingly. “If the Fire Sages would say that I acted honorably, because I believed in an honorable thing, but Fath – but the Fire Lord said that I acted dishonorably…”

“How do you know who holds your honor?” Iroh asks softly.

Zuko looks at him, and Iroh can only see one eye in his nephew’s handsome face.

“I don’t know,” he whispers. “That’s – that’s what I came here for, Uncle. Because I thought you’d know.”

Iroh wishes again that he could hold his honor up in cupped palms and offer it to his nephew, but he remembers again that Zuko would never accept something he did not believe he had earned. Iroh hopes that Zuko will see the truth about his honor, someday.

“Let us go to the galley, Prince Zuko,” he says. “The crew should know their commanding officer. It will give them courage, and faith, and hope.”

“Um,” Zuko looks vaguely terrified at the prospect. But Iroh’s nephew is a brave boy. “Okay, Uncle.”

Iroh heaves himself to his feet. “And they may even give us a sticky bun, if we ask politely.”

This time, Zuko looks a little happier to acquiesce. “Okay, Uncle.”

Iroh puts his hand on the boy’s shoulder, and they make their way through the corridors of the ship they now call home.

_Seventy-one to nil_.

They’ve been at sea for six months now.

Six months, three days, to be precise. According to Uncle Iroh, Zuko has grown by two inches in that time. He’s not sure what he’d done to deserve the broad smile and warm hug he had received the other week when he had emerged onto deck in his newly-tailored shirt, but he had appreciated it. It had felt good to have Uncle approve of him.

It is strange, for Zuko to feel his uncle’s approval for something as trivial as growing a few inches. He does not feel that he has earned it. But he wonders, sometimes, whether he had earned his father’s disapproval for something as trivial as speaking out of turn.

He can picture it, somehow in a faint way. It is like recognising a hole in the ground – there is his father’s love. And here is a patch of earth – there is Zuko. He can try and dig into that ground, and try and offer his father what he wishes, but all he is left with is a hole where Zuko might be. He wonders whether he can please his father without losing himself in the process.

His father had stripped him of his honor because of his shameful weakness.

But he wonders whether Fire Sage Nakamura would have seen it as his duty.

Zuko knows that the Fire Lord’s rule is blessed by Agni. But he does not know what it means when the Fire Lord forsakes the principles that Agni demands he honors.

Zuko’s scar often hurts, but sometimes, his headaches are deeper than the flesh, and his pain beats in time with his aching heart.

Zuko has been at sea for six months now.

Uncle has been here for half a year, too.

They do not have a strict schedule, out here on the ocean waves. Prince Zuko inspects his crew, and tries his best to inspire them with his example and give them something to aspire to. It’s difficult, especially when he doesn’t know what he’s even supposed to help them aspire _to_. Their duty is to him, but he is without honor, and he is an exile from his homeland. How can he lead them when he unworthy of their loyalty?

Uncle seems proud of him when he inspects the crew, though, so he tries to keep doing it as best he can. Uncle Iroh is a Prince and a General, and Zuko knows that the crew respect him. So he will do his best to make sure that his conduct reflects well on him, because Uncle is all Zuko has out here on the waves, and he won’t let it be said that Zuko – not Prince Zuko, not anymore, and not Zuko of the Fire Nation, not anymore – he won’t let it be said that _Zuko_ has not learnt _respect_.

Half a year is a long time to think about a lesson.

But Zuko has not been banished without hope. He has been set a task – he _must_ capture the Avatar. He must. He has to. He has to do it, for it is his duty. Anything else is unthinkable.

So the schedule becomes stricter when he orders a new course be set, and Zuko wonders whether the crew are inspired by his tenacity, his resolute perseverance, his determination. He does not give up, and he will not forget who he is.

Every so often, he remembers that he is without honor, and the left side of his face _burns_.

Today is a day without a strict schedule – the Northern Air Temple had not yielded any new information on the Avatar’s whereabouts, and so Zuko has allowed the crew a day’s shore leave. He wonders resentfully how many of them are engaging in activities the Fire Sages would disapprove of, whilst he’s stuck on the boat, playing Pai Sho with Uncle.

“The knotweed is an interesting tile to play in this situation, Nephew,” Uncle says, stroking his beard.

Zuko doesn’t know what the state of play is. He’s pretty sure he’s losing, but that’s such a regular occurrence with Uncle Iroh that he doesn’t bother with tactics anymore. Sometimes he just sees how quickly he can lose. Today, he’s seeing how long he can keep this one boat tile on the board. He doesn’t really care about the knotweed.

“But if you were to play the rock tile _here_ ,” Uncle indicates a square near Zuko’s gate, “Then you will cancel my wheel tile, and thus bring my harmonies into disarray.”

Zuko huffs and stabs a finger down on his knotweed tile, reaffirming the move. “I’m trying to play the game _my_ way, Uncle. I know what I’m trying to do.”

Uncle chuckles, and holds his cup of tea in his hands to reheat it. He’s been teaching Zuko how to channel heat as part of his training. Zuko had learnt this when he was nine.

He _hates_ the basics.

“Well, then, nephew, I must admit that your move _is_ a good one. The knotweed has granted you two harmonies! One with your rose tiles, and with one of your chrysanthemums.”

Zuko knows this. It’s why he’s stuck the knotweed tile where he’s stuck it.

“And, more than that,” Uncle continues as he sets a tile down, “It has forced me to place my boat tile here, removing my white lotus tile from the board and thus severely hampering my field position.”

“I don’t get why you keep using that tile, Uncle,” Zuko mutters. “It hasn’t done anything yet, and now I’ve got three more harmonies.”

As he sets a wheel tile down, he can move his tiles and get rid of his two harmonies in exchange for _five_.

“Your Pai Sho skills have improved, Prince Zuko,” Uncle smiles. Zuko’s pleased with the praise, yeah, but it’s still _Pai Sho_. He’d rather be told his _bending_ has improved, but he knows there’s little chance of that.

“However,” Uncle continues, and Zuko’s heart sinks. “I may now bring my white lotus tile back into play upon the board again, and cancel your harmonies – and bring about several harmonies of my own!”

Zuko groans as his five harmonies become zero, and Uncle’s zero harmonies become _eleven_.

“And that brings us to a close,” Uncle says happily. “We agreed to play to ten, and I believe the target has been met. A good game, Nephew – as I say, your skills have much improved.”

Zuko makes that seventy-two wins for his uncle, and a new personal best of zero wins for him, tying his previous total of zero wins, back when Uncle had seventy-one.

“I don’t get it,” Zuko mutters, grumpily sweeping his tiles off the board and into the bag. He might be sulking, but he feels he is entitled to a small measure of frustration after coming so close. “I was doing so well – I was so _close_. How did you even _win_ that?”

“I have told you many times, Nephew, that though you may think the white lotus tile insignificant, it is essential for the unusual strategy that I employ.”

“But I had five harmonies!” Zuko complains aggravatedly. “I was going to get _ten_ until you played that stupid tile!”

“You did indeed gain a small victory through the knotweed tile, Nephew. I thought it a very good starting tactic, though perhaps a little focussed on the immediate situation.”

“Kind of hard not to be focussed on the immediate situation,” Zuko mutters bitterly. “If it doesn’t help you _win_ , the knotweed tile’s useless!”

“If you cannot achieve your victory through the knotweed tile, Prince Zuko,” Uncle tells him. “Then perhaps you must use a different approach, and so find a harmony through different means.”

_Seventy-two to nil_.

Zuko thinks about that stupid knotweed tile for the rest of the afternoon.

He thinks he knows where he’s gone wrong. The knotweed cancels harmonies in the surrounding adjacent spaces – which makes sense, it’s a fire tile, it consumes its surroundings and brings them under its control. It’s what fire _does_.

But what he _should_ have done was play the rhododendron tile first, and then work from there.

When he voices his theory to Uncle, the old man is so delighted by Zuko’s sudden interest in the game that he insists on setting the board up exactly as it had been when Zuko had played the knotweed tile. Including all twenty-eight pieces that had been on the board at that moment in time.

“So if I played the rhododendron first, then you still would have played the boat,” he deflates. “I thought you would have played your own knotweed tile.”

“The thought did occur to me, Nephew.”

“But playing the knotweed tile would have cost me three harmonies!”

Uncle hums patiently and pours himself a cup of assam tea. Zuko waits impatiently for Uncle to finish his tea. Once he’s done, Uncle smacks his lips and hums. “But playing the boat tile, and waiting another turn, allowed me the opportunity to bring the white lotus to bear upon the board.”

Zuko sighed. Once, he would have run his hand through his hair. Now, he is banished.

“I just don’t get this stupid game,” he laments bitterly. “No matter what I do, I can never win.”

“I cannot help but notice that you have relied heavily on the knotweed tile in our previous matches as well, Prince Zuko.”

“It’s a good tile,” he defends himself. And, somewhat irrationally, the knotweed tile. It’s a nice design, and it’s hand-crafted. He’d been given this set by Lu Ten for his ninth birthday.

“It is, when the right opportunity presents itself,” Uncle acknowledges. “But sometimes, one must use a different method to achieve one’s goals.”

“It cancels your harmonies,” Zuko points out. “I was trying to block you from the board.”

“But it offered you only marginal gains in your own field position, Prince Zuko.”

“I wasn’t really focussing on my field position, Uncle. I was trying to mess up _yours_ before you messed up mine. And I still managed to mess that up,” he mutters, scowling at the board.

Uncle frowns slightly. “Nephew,” he begins disapprovingly. “When playing Pai Sho, you must first know what you are looking to achieve, before you trouble yourself with your opponent’s strategy.”

Zuko is confused. “But isn’t the whole point of Pai Sho to stop your opponent before they can disrupt your harmonies?”

“The aim of Pai Sho is to achieve harmonies, Nephew.”

He’s well aware of this, but it still doesn’t really make sense. “But you never care about harmonies, Uncle. You just – you’re always three harmonies down _at least_ , and then you just play that dumb lotus tile!”

“Though the river may take a circuitous journey,” Uncle says. “It will always flow home to the sea.”

Zuko doesn’t really want to talk about the sea right now. He’s been at sea for six months.

“Perhaps you might wish to use the rock tile if such a situation arises again, Nephew,” Uncle advises him.

Zuko looks at the tiles and sighs. “I guess.”

“I have often said, Nephew, that Pai Sho is more than a game, but a way of life.”

“I know, Uncle!” He snaps. “But my _life_ at the minute is about finding the Avatar, and your stupid _rock tile_ isn’t going to help with that!”

The candles in the corner of the room flicker –

Zuko can’t help his flinch, and he feels ashamed at his weakness.

The shame he feels reminds him that he is shamed.

 _Shamed_. _Banished_. _Dishonored_.

Uncle pours a cup of tea, and offers it to Zuko. He accepts it, because it is the polite thing to do. He forces himself to take a sip as Uncle pours himself another cup.

“In Pai Sho as in life, Prince Zuko, it is important that you know what your goal is.”

“I really don’t care about Pai Sho right now, Uncle.” Zuko debates folding the board up to prove his point. “I’ve got more important things to talk about than Pai Sho.”

Uncle hums sadly. “And you must be sure to remember the important things in life, Nephew. It is a principle that I wish I had learnt much sooner.”

Zuko remembers that Lu Ten had spent all of Zuko’s ninth birthday sitting with him, playing Pai Sho on his new birthday present and eating fruit tarts.

“I’m sorry, Uncle,” he apologizes. “But I have to remember my mission. If I’m to reclaim my honor, I have to stay focussed. I have to remember my goal.”

“And what is your goal, Nephew?”

“To capture the Avatar,” Zuko states firmly. “I can’t allow myself to get distracted from that.”

“But why do you wish to capture the Avatar, Nephew?”

Zuko blinks. “You – you _know_ why, Uncle.”

“Indeed,” Uncle acknowledges. “But will you humor an old man anyway?”

Zuko remembers how Lu Ten had given him the biggest slice of the fruit tart. He’d played a wheel tile three times in a row, and Zuko had giggled as the tiles got spun around his new board.

“I have to capture the Avatar,” he begins slowly. “So the Fire Lord will see that I’m worthy of his approval, and restore my honor. Then, I can have my banishment lifted, and return home. And I can regain everything that I lost.”

Uncle nods. They know this much already. “And why is this important to you, Prince Zuko?”

“Because –” Zuko begins, but frowns. “Why do you _think_ , Uncle? I _lost_ my honor, and I need it _back_!”

“But _why_ , Nephew?” Uncle asks again, still in that same even tone. “What have you lost?”

With an effort, Zuko remains calm. Or – not _angry_. The candles flicker, but at least they don’t flare.

“I have lost my worth, Uncle,” he grinds the words out. “I have been marked as unworthy. Agni’s favored has deemed me a failure. I have to demonstrate that I am capable and deserving, and that I haven’t lost what it takes to be honorable.”

Uncle sips at his tea. “Remind me, Nephew. What does it take, for you to be honorable?”

“It’ll take the Avatar.”

Zuko will spend a hundred lifetimes searching this world. He will freeze and burn and rise from the ashes a thousand times if he has to, but he will not give up.

“I do not ask what the Fire Lord demands of you for him to restore your honor, Prince Zuko. Rather, remember your lessons. What do Fire Sage Nakamura’s writings teach us we require to be honorable?”

Zuko looks hard at the Pai Sho board. “Courage, and faith, and hope.”

Uncle sets his cup down and reaches into his bag of Pai Sho tiles. “I believe the crew will be on shore leave for a little while longer, Prince Zuko.” He holds up the rock tile with a glimmer in his eye. “Will you indulge an old man for that little while?”

Zuko holds back a groan, but he can’t do much without a crew. “ _Fine_ , Uncle. But you’re going to regret it when I use that knotweed tile and cancel out your stupid rock.”

Uncle chuckles and gestures around at his cabin. “Perhaps, Prince Zuko. Or, perhaps you might wish to use your boat!”

Zuko scowls. “It wasn’t funny the first _sixteen_ times, Uncle.”

Uncle beats him for the seventy-third time in a row.

_One hundred and forty-nine to nil_.

As a soldier, Iroh has commanded ships upon the Mo Ce Sea, the Eastern Sea, and the South Sea. This past year, he has refreshed his memory of all three. He prefers dry land, but the land of his birth is no longer his home, and where his home now lies, he is not welcome.

He misses Lu Ten on days like today. On days like today, he stays especially close to Zuko.

His nephew has shown excellent progress in his firebending. He does not recognize it, of course, but Iroh can. Ozai has done Zuko a great many wrongs, and sending Zuko to the firebending tutors he did is hardly the worst of them, but Iroh was aghast nonetheless.

Zuko believes that Iroh has had him start again from the basics because he believes his nephew to be weak. Nothing could be further from the truth. Iroh has had him start again from the basics because he wanted Zuko to be a competent firebender.

All power, brute force, and aggression! Iroh had not realized that Zuko’s education had been so lacking. Now, he seeks to strengthen his nephew’s root, steady his breathing, and help this young dragon understand.

Zuko is impatient, and is eager to move on to the more advanced sets. He often complains about how his sister outstrips him, and Iroh will not deny that the Crown Princess Azula is a prodigy. He is no fool; she wields blue fire. Any bender who can push the limits of their element in such a way deserves respect.

But Azula is rather like the lightning she wields; fast, and deadly if she catches her target, but with no lasting danger. From what Iroh has heard from her tutors, the Princess favors the quick, killing blow, because she tires easily in prolonged, sustained combat with an enemy who possesses superior stamina. Iroh is an old man, but he is confident that he could best the Princess still. He knows how to counter her lightning, after all.

“A good set, Prince Zuko,” he praises his nephew as the boy finishes his _kata_. “Your movement from the third form into the seventh is greatly improved!”

Zuko must be in a good mood, because he offers his uncle a small smile. His golden eyes are lighter today in the sunlight. “I thought I could feel a more powerful connection to my bending this time round, Uncle.”

Iroh nods enthusiastically. “Your fire is your life, Prince Zuko – you would do well to remember this.”

“I know, Uncle,” Zuko acknowledges. He _must_ be in a good mood, Iroh reflects – he does not even roll his eyes as he agrees. “And I need to keep a strong root. You’ve told me before.”

“You honor your teacher by remembering my lessons, Nephew,” Uncle tells him. He finds it useful to remind Zuko of his honor. He has so much, yet he cannot see it.

Iroh knows Ozai has instilled many ideas in his son that must be undone. Zuko cannot build upon such foundations of ash.

He shakes himself out of his reverie. The sun is still rising, and Zuko is still paying attention. These moments are not to be wasted.

“Will you go through the movements to Leaping Dolphin Fish, Nephew?” He asks, rather than instructs. This is intentional – this is a set Zuko is unused to practising, though he knows it off by heart. Iroh remembers him studying the scrolls intently, with furrowed brow and chewed lip. Azula had won plaudits for performing this _kata_ flawlessly, and her twelve-year-old brother had been rather put out by it.

Zuko does not need to be told once, let alone twice, to demonstrate his competence at something Azula has already mastered. Iroh is unhappy about this – you must first know yourself, before concerning yourself with another – but he cannot fault his nephew for his enthusiasm.

He watches as Zuko goes through the motions, and he has to admit that his movements are excellent. His nephew has memorized the sequences, and he moves with confidence and conviction. Zuko must be in a good mood; he is often unsure and unsteady when he attempts a new set, but here he bends powerfully, with an impressive awareness of how his body responds to his promptings.

Iroh is encouraged by this good start. But it is not all it can be. Zuko is forceful and violent in his movements – so much wasted energy! It is a good thing that Zuko has worked so diligently at controlling his breathing, or else he would likely be collapsed on the deck in exhaustion by now, after only eight forms!

No, Iroh decides, this cannot do. As Zuko moves from one stance to the next, the transition is all performed in isolated motions involving the angular contortion of all his limbs at once. It is a style Ozai had won many plaudits for as he moved towards bending lightning, Iroh remembers.

His brother has ruined Zuko’s firebending. It is yet another sin to add to the list.

As Zuko finishes by shooting a fireball out across the bow, Iroh can hear the excited mutterings of the crew. They have been at sea long enough now that they are not overawed by excessive displays of power – now, it is demonstrations of true prowess that impress them.

Iroh does not bother correcting them – the Fire Nation would indeed consider this mastery. Zuko is an excellent bender, capable of controlling both flickering sparks and broader, more expansive waves of flame. But he only knows the Sozin school.

Iroh knows that if you take wisdom from only one place, it becomes rigid and stale.

“A fine set, Prince Zuko,” he tells his nephew, who flushes at the praise. The redness spreads down his neck to his chest, which is heaving as he sucks in deep breaths.

“But you have many sharp movements in your routine,” he continues. “And if you are too eager to achieve them, you will only unbalance yourself.”

Zuko scowls. “I almost slipped on my ankle as I moved into seventh form extended – but I didn’t, Uncle,” he adds defiantly. “I managed it!”

Zuko is used to dealing with the firebending tutors at the palace, whose primary concern for the Prince’s lessons was for him to not fail. Iroh wishes to see Zuko _soar_.

“You did, Nephew,” he agrees. “Your recovery was impressive. However, if you allowed the power of your movement from the sixth form to be guided through your hips, extending through your leg into the graceful sweep of your left foot – rather than concentrating the movement in your torso and heel – that, I believe, would be much more effective.”

Zuko wrinkles his nose and tests the theory a few times, slowly rotating his upper body and allowing his waist and legs to follow. Independent of the routine, he picks it up quickly. But when he attempts the Leaping Dolphin Fish again, Iroh is disappointed to see him repeat the same mistakes.

On the third attempt, he does fall awkwardly on his ankle, and though he is not injured, Iroh sympathizes with the sting to his pride as he falls on his backside.

“I don’t _get_ it,” Zuko seethes, punching a fireball into the deck. “I had it! I’ve got the form, I’ve got the _movement_ – why isn’t it _working_ , Uncle?”

“As I say, Prince Zuko,” Iroh stands firm. “Your movements concentrate your power in the immediate. You must learn to incorporate your whole body into your bending, as you bring your bending to bear upon your whole body.”

“But that’s not how firebending _works_ , Uncle!”

“It is not, perhaps, what your more orthodox tutors would have taught you,” Iroh acknowledges cheerfully. The punches, kicks, sharp movements, and violent adjustments of Ozai’s trainings had never been particularly appealing to the elder brother. “But the fluid and graceful movements of the waterbenders often –”

“I’m not a _waterbender,_ Uncle!” Zuko shouts. “I’m a _firebender_ , and even if I’m not – even if I have to _fight_ for it, I’m going to get it right! I’m not some peasant stuck on an iceberg at the bottom of the world, I am a _Prince_ of the Fire Nation!”

But the way Zuko’s voice cracks as he screams at his uncle has nothing to do with his being fourteen years old. Zuko knows as well as Iroh that his exile means that he is no longer of the Nation.

Iroh misses his home too, but he cannot see Ba Sing Se, and he will not leave Zuko.

“I think that is enough training for today,” Iroh announces. “I have just remembered – I have an important meeting with Lieutenant Jee momentarily.”

He hopes that the Lieutenant has improved his Pai Sho skills since their last meet, but he will not be sorely disappointed if his hopes are misplaced. They do not play competitively, and Jee will have plenty of time to improve.

_One hundred and forty-nine to nil_.

Iroh is humming happily as he stores his winnings in the locked chest and tucks it back under his bed.

Six silver pieces for an afternoon’s Pai Sho! Not bad at all, he thinks to himself. The Dragon of the West knows how to pick his battles, and how to win them, too. He will have to keep an eye on Ensign Takahashi, mind – her use of the chrysanthemum tile had been _ingenious_ , though she seemed somewhat less well-versed in when best to play the wheel…

Iroh has grown used to the sound of a soft _tap_ at his door. “Enter.”

He does not wish to draw attention to the fact that his nephew is the only one who knocks softly. Everyone else aboard the ship would seem like they were attempting to break the door down – he is happy that _someone_ has manners.

He is grateful that, in this, Zuko remains the boy he once was.

His nephew looks tired; whilst Iroh had been enjoying pitting his wits against first Jee and then Takahashi, he had looked out the window at irregular intervals to see flashes of fire and faint smoke. Zuko must have been training for a while.

“Good evening, Uncle.”

“Good evening, Nephew,” Iroh returns. He folds his arms into the sleeves of his casual robes, and gives the boy a smile. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”

Zuko shifts; even after a year, he still finds it uncomfortable when his presence is met with interest rather than disdain. “I was practising Leaping Dolphin Fish this afternoon, and I couldn’t make the landing on my ankle using Sozin School principles.”

“I hope you didn’t injure yourself, Nephew. The sparrowkeet chick’s wings must be strong before their mother allows them to leave the nest.”

“Um,” Zuko appears to puzzle out the proverb for a moment before shaking his head. “No, Uncle, I was fine. But – like I said, I couldn’t land it right using Sozin style.”

“Leaping Dolphin Fish is a form that will test your balance greatly, Nephew,” Iroh offers him small consolation. “I remember, when I was a young man, being fairly covered in bruises after my first day attempting it.”

“I, uh. I think I might need a bit more than a day, Uncle.” Zuko manages a half-smile as he scratches at his ear.

“That is understandable,” Iroh nods. He is an old man and it took him many years before he could laugh at himself. It is encouraging that Zuko can do the same so young. “Though it is a little embarrassing to admit, my one day of bruises quickly became two months.”

Zuko laughs then, small and breathy. Iroh feels his inner fire crackle and burn with warmth and life.

“But I believe it would have been six months or more, Nephew, had I continued to struggle with landing upon my right foot in a well-balanced stance.”

His nephew looks more interested now. Iroh is left-footed – it is one of the ways he differs from Ozai and his children. “How did you get past that difficulty, Uncle?”

Iroh clears his throat. “Perhaps a demonstration might be in order?”

Zuko’s eyes gleam with excitement, and he looks over his shoulder quite a few times as he leads Iroh up to the deck. He need not worry; Iroh will follow Zuko anywhere.

“I have mentioned earlier that consciously incorporating more fluid motions into your bending might achieve the desired results,” Iroh speaks calmly as he goes through the _kata_ slowly and easily, being sure to keep his balance. He is an old man; he often practices with a cup of tea in one hand, and it is a shame to waste good jasmine.

Zuko is watching him like a hawk, his eyes sketching out every move Iroh makes. It is likely that he will take off his tunic and join him in his movements before too long. He will have to make the most of the hold he has on Zuko’s attention before it is lost.

“You may see here that my movements keep my centre of gravity in constant motion, Nephew,” Iroh continues. “And it is quite the centre, I am sure.”

“You’re putting a lot more emphasis on your hinge joints,” Zuko observes. “Master Kobayashi always told me that I should bend from the shoulders and my torso.”

“Master Kobayashi is a very capable practitioner of Sozin School,” Iroh says diplomatically.

Zuko frowns, but hesitates. He still remembers a time when he disagreed with something and spoke out.

“You may speak, Prince Zuko,” Iroh invites him. “A master who refuses to learn is not a master you should learn from.”

Zuko shifts his weight, unconsciously mirroring Iroh’s own stance; Iroh bends at the knees and lets his _chi_ flow through his shoulders, extending through the arm, expelling a small puff of smoke through his hand.

“You told me that waterbending principles should be applied to firebending.”

“Water is the element of change,” Iroh explains. “As Leaping Dolphin Fish requires great flexibility and adaptation, I believe it a fitting philosophy to draw upon.”

“But Fa – the Fire Lord taught me that the other elements were weaker than fire. So we shouldn’t use them.”

“Perhaps,” Iroh acknowledges. “But here –” he quickly speeds up his motions, gathering enough momentum to land the sweep of his leg into seventh form before pausing in demonstration – “Do you see how I have landed the form nicely?”

Zuko frowns for a long time. Iroh hopes that he will speak soon. He is an old man, and seventh form is not particularly kind upon his joints.

“The Fire Sages would say that the Fire Lord’s judgement must be aligned with the judgements of Agni,” Zuko says at last.

“This is a theme that appears consistently in Fire Sage Itō’s political theory,” Iroh says.

“But he makes a careful distinction in _On the Distinct Will of Agni_ between the revealed judgement of Agni and the hidden judgement of Agni.”

Iroh decides to straighten up from his form, and his back sighs in relief. “I am glad to see that you have kept up your studies, Prince Zuko.”

“Fire Sage Itō writes that it doesn’t mean that Agni always agrees with what the Fire Lord says, but rather that the Fire Lord should always make sure his pronouncements are in line with Agni’s revealed wisdom.”

“I remember Lu Ten had particular difficulty grasping that concept,” Iroh smiles at the memory. “In fact, I believe I remember an occasion when I found a burnt scroll of Fire Sage Itō’s writings lying in a garden, as if it had been thrown out of a window from a great height.”

Zuko shares a quiet smile with Iroh as they remember his beloved son. Oh, what a boy he had been, what joy he brought to his father, what pride he brought to his Nation.

“Can you show me that form again, Uncle?” Zuko asks, stripping off his tunic. Iroh winces at the purple bruise already forming on his nephew’s ribs.

After three attempts, each time paying more attention to his elbows and knees, Zuko manages a perfectly-executed sweep of the leg from sixth form extended to seventh form Leaping Dolphin Fish.

_Two hundred and ninety-one to nil_.

It is eight days before the anniversary of Lu Ten’s death when Zuko finds Iroh standing on the front deck, looking out over the ocean waves.

His eyes look towards Ba Sing Se, where his heart ever yearns to be.

“Uncle?”

He blinks – his reflections broken, the silence shattered – and turns to face the boy. “My apologies, Prince Zuko – the older I grow, the more distractible I seem to become.”

His nephew says nothing, but holds up a cup of tea.

Iroh has tasted his nephew’s attempts at tea before, and so he is wary when he takes the proffered cup. He is prepared to fake a sneeze and dash the tea overboard in the confusion, but, to his surprise, the jasmine is excellent.

“My thanks, Nephew,” he offers, though he’s still a little sceptical. Perhaps a spirit has possessed the boy?

“Cook was there to help me,” Zuko mumbles.

“Would this be Boatswain Honda?”

Zuko hesitates. “I don’t know crewmember Yoshida’s rank, Uncle.”

Cook Yoshida is an unlicensed crewman, but Iroh had not been overly concerned with his lack of rank when he offered skill in Pai Sho and tea-brewing instead. “My thanks to you, then, Prince Zuko, for this refreshing beverage.”

The boy nods firmly, brusquely covering up his embarrassment. He turns towards the ocean and stands with his uncle for a moment.

A moment turns into a few minutes, and whilst Iroh is a patient man, he knows his nephew is not. But he can wait for Zuko; his nephew will speak sooner or later.

“My father told me that my honor depends upon capturing the Avatar.”

Iroh lowers his head. He has had this conversation many times over the past year and a half. “These are the terms of your banishment, Prince Zuko.”

Zuko nods. His hand tightens on the railing. Iroh wishes he could help Zuko see the truth.

“I don’t know if I can agree with him, Uncle.”

Iroh’s head jerks up. “What?”

Such a breach in etiquette when addressing a commanding officer would surely be unforgiveable were he not the Dragon of the West.

Zuko turns to face him, and his scar is so angry in the fading light. The sunset stains it, the violent red seeping across his ruined face.

“The Fire Lord has told me that my honor depends on what I do,” Zuko speaks quietly, but firmly. “And that I can only restore my honor by my deeds. But I was exiled for doing an honorable thing.”

“I believe you showed great honor in your conduct, Prince Zuko,” Iroh dares to say.

“Right.” Zuko almost turns back to the ocean, but he holds firm. He, unlike Iroh, does not look away. “So I can’t – Fire Sage Itō writes that the Fire Lord doesn’t always act in accordance with Agni’s will.”

Iroh nods. Zuko’s slitted left eye is golden.

“I don’t believe the Fire Lord was right to banish me, Uncle.”

“I do not believe that either, Prince Zuko.”

Zuko swallows, and his right eye narrows as he blinks hard. The left side of his face is unmoving.

“My honor depends upon me doing the right thing. But… my father doesn’t always do the right thing.”

Iroh remembers Lu Ten telling him something so similar, once. Nearly three years ago…

“How – how can I regain my honor, Uncle, if I can’t trust that the honor Father would give me is honorable?”

Iroh wishes to wet his lips with the jasmine tea, but he will not leave his nephew waiting. He will never leave him, never again will he look away. “You have told me that the Fire Lord did not act rightfully when he banished you, Prince Zuko.”

“I was trying to do the right thing, Uncle.”

“I believe you were, Nephew. Remember your lessons – if we act contrary to Agni’s will, does he approve of our actions?”

“No.”

“And so, if your father acted wrongfully in banishing you – in stripping you of your honor – in challenging you to Agni Kai – does Agni approve of these things?”

“Agni is a merciful spirit,” Zuko recites from his lessons. “He protects those of the Nation, and those who do right in his eyes.” He meets Iroh’s eyes again. “I’m only one of those things, Uncle.”

So is Ozai, Iroh thinks to himself. “If your punishments were meted out to you wrongfully, Prince Zuko – have you really lost your honor?”

“But that’s what I don’t _understand_ , Uncle,” Zuko replies painfully. He turns back to the ocean, and hunches over the railing. “I – even if I haven’t lost my honor, I still can’t return _home_. I’m still exiled, still banished – still shamed in the Nation. Where can I go?”

Iroh sighs, and moves to stand next to his nephew. He allows himself to drink the jasmine tea, and stows the cup in his robes.

It is eight days until the day his son died, three years ago.

“Prince Zuko,” he begins. “Will you believe me when I say that I have found myself in a similar situation to you, my nephew?”

Zuko frowns. “You’ve never been banished, Uncle. You’re – you’re the most honorable man I know.”

Uncle smiles sadly. Zuko can only say such a thing because he does not know what monsters war makes of men.

“I have not been banished, Nephew,” he acknowledged. “And you are very kind to show me such respect. But, nevertheless – there was a time in my life when I felt I could not return to the Nation; when my name was met with jeering and laughter. When Iroh was shamed, and our countrymen did not wish to know me.”

“Ba Sing Se,” Zuko mumbles. “Uncle – I’m sorry, I know it’s still a few days away, but – I’m sorry.”

They stand there in silence. Iroh remembers a boy who liked playing with his spinning top and making origami cranes out of his parchment, to the chagrin of his tutors. Perhaps Zuko remembers the young man who went off to war; Iroh prefers to forget what his son looked like in his armor.

“There was a time when I, too, questioned these things,” he begins. “My views of right and wrong, duty and honor, made no sense to me in the grief of losing my son.”

“I miss him too, Uncle.”

“My son was very fond of you, Zuko.”

“He used to sneak me fruit tarts from the kitchen.”

Iroh smiles. “I am not surprised; Lu Ten had quite the sweet tooth.”

“You, um – but how did you know?” Zuko swallows. “About right and wrong?”

“There was a time when I wondered whether these concepts truly meant anything,” Iroh tells his nephew.

_How can good and evil exist in a world where the light has been snuffed out?_

“I’m sorry, Uncle.”

“Do not be sorry, Zuko – it was not your fault. It was mine, for waging a war that should not have been fought.”

“We’re bringing Agni’s light to those who need it, Uncle.”

“I believed that too, Nephew,” Iroh tells the boy. He is careful not to agree this time. “But I wondered, afterwards – how could fire be the superior element, when my son was no longer by my side?”

Zuko says nothing. He does not know the answer. Many generals are yet to ask these questions, and Iroh wonders how his peers can still be so blind. Perhaps they have not lost sons in war, he thinks to himself. The years have dulled his bitterness, but the salt is still there. Perhaps their sons have not signed up to make their fathers proud.

He had been so proud of his son, until he was _gone_.

“In time, Prince Zuko, I came to understand that, much as we are not merely our fire, but born of the earth, and nourished by water, and sustained by the air, so too we cannot rely only on fire to light our paths.”

“But fire is life,” Zuko repeats one of Iroh’s favorite maxims. “That’s what you always said, Uncle – fire is life.”

In time, Iroh will take Zuko to the Sun Warriors. Then, Zuko will understand. But until then, he will be patient. “Much as you have drawn upon different styles of bending beyond Sozin School to perfect your forms, so too must you draw upon wisdom from different sources beyond fire to perfect yourself, Nephew.”

Zuko has never been told he has perfected a bending _kata_. That has always been praise reserved for Azula. But Iroh will not lie to his nephew; his technique is flawless.

“Is that what you did, Uncle?”

Iroh inclines his head. “I have learnt a great many things from a great many sources, Nephew. Some of the most important wisdom of all is to be found in some of the most unexpected places.”

He clears his throat and casts one final longing, resigned look towards the far-off city of Ba Sing Se, whose outer wall he breached and whose streets he has never walked.

Then, he pulls his cup out of his pocket again. “Come, Nephew. I am thirsty, and I am curious as to whether our friend Yoshida is still on duty.”

“Um – do you need me to come with you, Uncle?”

“Of course, Nephew,” Iroh smiles. “Pai Sho is a two-player game, after all.”

_Six hundred and fifty-two to seventeen_.

“May I have this game?”

Kyoshi Island doesn’t get many visitors these days. They stay away from the outside world, and the outside world stays away from them. Oyaji likes it that way – especially when there’s a war on.

Three new visitors a week ago was one thing. Now these two have shown up as well. Oyaji hopes they’re not here to ride the unagi as well.

But Oyaji likes Pai Sho just as much as the next old person, so he’s not going to complain _too_ much about visitors. He gestures at the board. “The guest has the first move.”

No, Oyaji thinks to himself. He’s not going to complain too much. Especially when it’s a visitor that plays an interesting hand like this one.

“I see you favor the White Lotus Gambit,” he says slowly. “Not many still cling to the ancient ways.”

“Those who do can always find a friend,” the scarred boy replies.

Behind him, the old man smiles.

“Then let us play,” Oyaji says, and the white lotus opens wide.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ‘All warfare is based on deception.’ – [Sun Tzu](https://en.wikiquote.org/wiki/Sun_Tzu#Chapter_1_%C2%B7_Detail_Assessment_and_Planning).
> 
> ‘A man is honorable in proportion to the personal risks he takes for his opinion.’ – [Nassim Nicholas Taleb](https://en.wikiquote.org/wiki/Nassim_Nicholas_Taleb#Antifragile:_Things_That_Gain_from_Disorder_\(2012\)).
> 
> ‘"Duty, Honor, Country" — those three hallowed words reverently dictate what you ought to be, what you can be, what you will be. They are your rallying point to build courage when courage seems to fail, to regain faith when there seems to be little cause for faith, to create hope when hope becomes forlorn.’ – [Douglas MacArthur](https://en.wikiquote.org/wiki/Douglas_MacArthur).
> 
> Shimizu’s Crococat is a reference to '[Schrodinger’s Cat](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Schr%C3%B6dinger%27s_cat)’, a thought experiment that questions how one possibility, the other, or both simultaneously can be true.
> 
> Place and people names are drawn from quick Wikipedia searches. Any other recognizable quotes are from _A:TLA_.

**Author's Note:**

> ‘All warfare is based on deception.’ – [Sun Tzu](https://en.wikiquote.org/wiki/Sun_Tzu#Chapter_1_%C2%B7_Detail_Assessment_and_Planning).
> 
> ‘A man is honorable in proportion to the personal risks he takes for his opinion.’ – [Nassim Nicholas Taleb](https://en.wikiquote.org/wiki/Nassim_Nicholas_Taleb#Antifragile:_Things_That_Gain_from_Disorder_\(2012\)).
> 
> ‘"Duty, Honor, Country" — those three hallowed words reverently dictate what you ought to be, what you can be, what you will be. They are your rallying point to build courage when courage seems to fail, to regain faith when there seems to be little cause for faith, to create hope when hope becomes forlorn.’ – [Douglas MacArthur](https://en.wikiquote.org/wiki/Douglas_MacArthur).
> 
> Shimizu’s Crococat is a reference to '[Schrodinger’s Cat](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Schr%C3%B6dinger%27s_cat)’, a thought experiment that questions how one possibility, the other, or both simultaneously can be true.
> 
> Place and people names are drawn from quick Wikipedia searches. Any other recognizable quotes are from _A:TLA_.


End file.
